Grandma's first line of defense
for skinned knees through puberty
was for me to squat over the stool
backwards with elbows propped askew
atop the porcelain lid exposing myself
at an acute angle so she could dangle
a rubber pouch of warm soapy water
in her left hand while admonishing me
to relax my cheeks (not meaning face)
before releasing antitoxin
with her right fist that it rattled my ears.
Then on one bass ackward day Grandma
summoned me to deliver her to see a doc
who found symptoms suspicious enough
to prescribe a specialist test ASAP
requiring her to prep herself by utilizing
a high tech brand called Fleet available
(over the counter) that very same evening
for an exam scheduled the next morning.
On the way home Grandma made it clear
she had not the least intention of inserting
any new fangled snake oil potion in her rear
(despite orders to the contrary) but agreed
to the next pre requisite step only if I would
consent to carrying out the awkward ritual
the same old fashioned way she taught me.
Bio: David Ross is a retired journalist/teacher/litmag editor in Rockford, IL who writes satirical poetry/prose because of their laxative value.
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